


salt and smoke

by dantehicks (arthureverest)



Category: Askewniverse, Clerks. (1994)
Genre: Alcohol, First Time, M/M, Party, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 04:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17501399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthureverest/pseuds/dantehicks
Summary: randal takes a short break from being a sardonic slacker and happily does his friend a favor, not that dante'd remember much of it the next morning





	salt and smoke

**Author's Note:**

> i promise i hate randal, it's not what it looks like

It's funny that they never talked about it. 

Randal was very good at compartmentalizing things, tuning them out, and Dante just thought it was a one-off. 

Of course, Dante was a lot drunker at the time, and maybe a bit more prepared. Randal was asocial enough to have never gotten that close to anyone. 

The party was boring, so Dante found some quiet place to mope behind closed doors. Randal found him and picked at him like a scab, eventually draping himself over his lap to make fun of his melodramatic wistfulness. 

From that angle, looking up at Dante, touching him, watching the light above him form a halo, everything he loved about his friend was a million times more apparent. He froze.

On impulse he adjusted himself to rest his head against Dante's chest, and he hated how happy it made him. 

“What're ya doin’?” Dante mumbled. 

Randal wordlessly put his hand on Dante's chest, and listened to Dante's breathing for a second. 

Dante pulled him upright and studied his face. He'd never known Randal to do anything that wasn't steeped in 90 layers of irony; he was trying and failing to figure out what the joke to this one was. 

Randal leaned back in and kissed up the line from Dante's chin to his ear, whispering flirtations when he got there. Dante's eyes widened and Randal, still sitting in his lap, was emboldened by the sympathetic reaction he felt under him. 

He went to his lips and Dante obediently kissed back, at which point the confusion and hesitation left him. Randal wasn't Randal anymore, he was a stranger. He didn't have time to think about that thought too much.

Randal moved his leg to straddle Dante's body, and kept kissing, hard, grabbing at Dante's ugly-ass sweater and giving all he's got. 

Dante unzipped his own pants and Randal moved to greet his cock. Apprehensive, he felt he should know how to do this, but figured he should just stick to the golden rule and treat others how he wanted to be treated. 

Dante reacted to every motion, sometimes subtly and sometimes less so, and Randal picked up on every little thing. He took the feedback and let it inform his next move. 

“My god,” Dante managed to get out. “Ran’!” 

Hearing his name, or part of it, encouraged him to pick up speed.

Dante warned him he was going to finish, and he did. 

Randal, burdened with an unknown comfort, looked up at his friend, his best friend, and hopped back in his lap to plant sleepy kisses at his cheek. 

The whole world tasted like salt and smoke. Hazy layers covered every thought until they fell asleep.

It's funny that they never talked about it, but neither of them had the words or the courage. Neither was ready to acknowledge what happened, let alone how they felt about it. Yet.


End file.
